


Having blood on your hands doesn't make you a man, Dean.

by A_Maenad_Called_Rex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Gen, Good Sibling Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Maenad_Called_Rex/pseuds/A_Maenad_Called_Rex
Summary: Dean got hurt on a hunt. Sam comes to see him in the hospital and is upset that Dean seems to think hunting and killing things is what makes him a real man/hunter. It's implied Dean's real proud of it because that's what John made him believe.Also Dean was a good parent to Sam.I hope at least some of this makes sense guys, my brain is kind of fucked up right now. If anybody has any questions please ask and I will try to make sense.Can be read as platonic brotherly love, or incesty brotherly love. Whatever you want.





	Having blood on your hands doesn't make you a man, Dean.

Sam was always fucking _looking_ at him.

Sam had one of his ripped up arms cradled in his lap, just like that Bluejay with the broken wing he found last summer, and he had that exact same expression on his face. He was silent, was looking at Dean but not his eyes. That's how Dean knew, it was bad.

Dean was coming up with something _real_ to say. A joke to lighten the mood would only hurt Sam now, he had to give him something real. Sam was worried, afraid maybe, and Dean's usual mask wouldn't help. Sam said something first, surprising but appreciated.

"What was it?" Sam's voice was small and wet, and Dean could hear the despair dripping from it. He was bigger than Dean now, and built like a mountain, but Dean saw sweet little Sammy next to him. Holding his arm, with wet eyes and slumped shoulders, but a determined set to his jaw. Determined not to cry, to be as independent as he wanted everyone to think he was.

Dean fought so his voice didn't crack when he replied.

"Didn't know what it was. S'posed to be a milk run. Turned out to be a hungry wendigo. It was saving a hipster and an accountant for later. I tried to save them. I couldn't."

Sam looked at him. _Progress_.

"Dad let you go on a hunt by yourself?"

_Maybe not so much_.

"I'm 23, dude." 

Dean didn't tell Sam he had fought and begged for the chance to do this hunt solo. He didn't even want to think about it. He finally convinced Dad to give him a chance to prove himself. To prove he was capable of doing this job. That he was adequate. He fucked it up. Of course he did. That seemed to be his specialty. Now Dad wouldn't trust him for another decade at least, and two civilians were dead. He didn't know which he was more torn up about, and the guilt from that made him feel even more rotten.

Sam looked at him skeptically.

"What did you do to earn it? There's never a reward without some kind of test or something first. So how did you earn a solo hunt?"

Dean's soul, which was previously sitting in a pile of embarrassment and shame, practically flew with pride. His grimace twisted into something resembling a smile.

"I killed a werewolf last week, all by myself. I mean Dad was there, hunting it with me, but it had him on the ground and it was coming for me and I took it down, man. It was fucking awesome."

Sam knew his big brother wanted him to be proud of him. He was really. But he aced a biology test yesterday, and the highlight of his brother's month is that a dangerous creature tried to murder him and didn't quite manage it. He was able to murder it first. Sam wanted to be proud, to say, "I bet it was awesome, Dean. I wish I could have been there to see you kick that thing's ass." He wishes he was there to watch Dean's back. _Really_, he wishes Dean wasn't there getting tackled by things with claws and fangs in the first place. He wishes Dean could get excited about biology tests and football games, not the near-death experience of the week. This was a big deal for Dean. He was a man now. A hunter. Like Dad. He had been waiting for this for forever. Sam knew it. He didn't want to hurt Dean, but Dean was already hurt, and that wasn't fair.

"Congratulations."

It could have been sincere. They both knew it wasn't.

"You pissed at me, Sammy? How come?"

"I'm pissed, but not at you. I'm pissed 'cause he made you think that in order to be a real man you gotta get a set of shiny new scars and a baptism of blood."

"Jesus, Sammy."

Dean looked pale. It was the blood loss and the weight in Sam's voice.

"What, it's true."

"It's just, you." He smiled another of those proud smiles, this one was for Sam though. "You and words. They never came to me like they did to you."

"_I_ had someone willing to teach them to me. And to listen when I started using them."

Dean didn't know what to say. He never did. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was still dizzy with Vicodin and guilt, and he didn't feel like defending his Dad right now, so… he didn't.

Sam was looking at him again. Hazel eyes bright and damp, and Dean remembered his job. Priority number one: look after Sammy. He pulled his not-so-little-anymore brother to his chest, choosing to ignore the pain in his arms and ribs when he does it. 

"I'm sorry I don't have the right words. All I can do is promise you I'm gonna be okay."

"That's good enough for me, Dean."

They fell asleep in the hospital bed, and not even the nurses cooing over how damn cute they were could wake them up. Could take them out of each other's arms.


End file.
